The Last Christmas

December 25th, 2024. 05:17

Thank goodness Rudolph ate his carrots and helped me find my way around planet Earth. I’ve just made the last delivery, and there’s no sign of this mist lifting. What a night! Not as many mince pies and glasses of sherry as previous years, but at least Mrs Powell left out some of her homemade mince pies for me. She never fails to bake some for me despite her claiming to loathe baking. They tasted a little different this year, but at least she always cooks me some. She’ll never be on the naughty list.

That way, boys, towards the moon and we’ll soon be home. Never seen a moon quite like this one before, but it’s always the route we take to get us back to the North Pole.


December 25th, 2025

For millions of people on planet Earth, Christmas would never be the same again. Empty stockings hang over fireplaces and at the end of beds. Underneath millions of Christmas trees, floors only showed signs of fallen pine needles rather than gifts. Nobody would ever find out that the bright light that followed Father Christmas the previous year was the light that many claimed to see when they departed this world.

Mrs Powell would never have to bake mince pies ever again, although she hadn’t baked any this year anyway.

#flashfiction #fiction #christmas
Credit: Sue Vincent

Written in response to #writephoto on the blog of Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

© 2017 Copyright-All rights


Author: Hugh W. Roberts

My name is Hugh. I live in the city of Swansea, South Wales, in the United Kingdom. My blog covers a wide range of subjects, the most popular of which are my blogging tips posts. If you have any questions about blogging or anything else, please contact me by clicking on the 'Contact Hugh' button on the menu bar. Click on the 'Meet Hugh' button on the menu bar to learn more about me and my blog.

92 thoughts

  1. If there is a successor to Father Christmas, he will need to have a taste tester to protect him from the likes of Mrs. Powell. I’m surprised this hasn’t happened earlier than 2024. Maybe it’s time for a Mother Christmas. I heard someone just the other day say, “This has been a mother of a Christmas!”

    1. Oh, I like that saying, Molly. I think it’s perfect for when there seems to be nothing but work before Christmas. Maybe Mrs Powell was Mrs Mother Christmas? With my twisted mind in overdrive, she may well have wanted to be rid of Father Christmas for other reasons other than just loathing to bake. 😇 I need to fire up my time machine and sort this mess out before it’s too late. Wish me luck.

      1. Good point about Mrs. Powell. Did she just take out a big life insurance policy on Father Christmas prior to her inspired pie baking? Should be a great Christmas for her in 2024! I expect a follow up in which there is no mincing of words, Hugh.

  2. Oh the sadness on Christmas morn! Poor Santa! Mrs. Powell will get hers! Merry Christmas & Happy New Year, Hugh! Another fascinating tale told by the master of the unusual! Hugs 🤗 😘

    1. Thanks, Janice. My mind just did not want to make this a happy-ending story. I don’t think any character is safe with me.
      Merry Christmas to you and your family, Janice.

      P.S – Did you get my email about a brand new feature I got starting in January?

  3. Hugh, so it was Mrs. Powell’s pies that emptied the world! After one bite, the light? A bit twisted, but you have an out of the ordinary, creative, futuristic imagination! That’s why I read your posts. Happy Holidays to you & family. 🎄🎄🎄 Christine

    1. What lovely compliments, thank you so much, Christine. My mind can often take the wild path and get me into lots of trouble. I just hope nobody reads this story to their children on Christmas Eve.
      Merry Christmas and a happy new year to you and your family. 🎄

  4. Damn! My parents used to leave milk and cookies! However there’s hope. On my way to work yesterday I saw Santa walking along Madison Avenue in Manhattan. Both myself and the lady behind me were pleasantly surprised. I suppressed the urge to ask for gifts. Santa is hanging out in New York city.

  5. I remember one Christmas Eve Father suggested we children forgo the usual milk and cookies for Santa and put out pretzels and bourbon. He explained he would be tired of such and this surprise would be a delight. Mother was appalled but we were bedazzled. We did so and Santa left us a special ‘thank you’ gift. We put out booze and pretzels ever since.

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